


Cravings at SPN CON

by Scamp08



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cravings, Embarrassment, Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 12:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18235133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scamp08/pseuds/Scamp08
Summary: A short, humorous, little Drabble about having crazy pregnancy cravings at a supernatural convention.





	Cravings at SPN CON

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: my first fic! 
> 
> A/N2: I am not currently nor have I ever been pregnant, but for some reason this story came to me in a daydream recently. But in case you’re curious, the cravings I thought up when I wrote it were dill pickles with yellow mustard and a soft pretzel. 
> 
> Y/p/n = your partner’s name

Your partner is walking towards the back of the main room, where J2 are answering questions during their panel, to get you [random craving] after you’ve desperately convinced them that you need it. RIGHT. NOW. As they’re leaving, you think of something else you want (need!) and try to get their attention, but they’re too far away to hear you. Approaching panic about how much you now * **NEED** * this food, you quickly reach out in an almost involuntary reflex-type move, and snatch the mic away from someone asking J2 a question. 

Yanking the mic to your face, you shout, in an urgent and panicky but somehow still plaintive tone, “wait!! Y/p/n!! ...can you get me a _____ too, please...??” 

Your partner turns towards you, their face progressing from an expression of surprise to questioning ( _did you really just do that?_ ) to acceptance ( _pregnancy makes you do crazy things_ ) to comical anticipation ( _waiting for you to realize what you’ve just done_ ). They hesitantly nod in acquiescence, and you begin to realize what you’ve done. Your gaze slowly drops to the mic in your hand. It finally clicks that you’ve unceremoniously ripped the mic from a fellow fan’s hand. 

You mutter, “oh no... oh my god...” as your head snaps up to look in horror at the person at the front of the question line. 

You spin around and stare wide-eyed, equally contrite and horrified at your impulsive actions, at J2 on stage. 

You quickly blurt out, “I’m so sorry,” and thrust the mic back into the hands of the questioner in a ‘ _if I’m not holding it, then maybe it didn’t happen’_ sort of reflex. 

The stars of supernatural are glaring at you with expressions of shocked annoyance at the rude interruption. Expressions which rapidly morph into matching faces of comically wide-eyed, gleefully-amused-but-almost-choking-trying-not-to-laugh, when they see your distended (heavily pregnant) abdomen and realize what just happened. Epically embarrassed, you scramble to flop back down into your seat, successful but about as graceful as a collapsing hippopotamus, then hide your face in your hands. 


End file.
